Lundy's Lane and Other Poems

by Duncan Campbell Scott




THE night is old, and all the world
  Is wearied out with strife;
A long gray mist lies heavy and wan
  Above the house of life.

FOUR stars burn up and are unquelled


  By the low, shrunken moon;
Her spirit draws her down and down—
  She shall be buried soon.

THERE is a sound that is no sound,
  Yet fine it falls and clear,


The whisper of the spinning earth
  To the tranced atmosphere.

AN odour lives where once was air,
  A strange, unearthly scent,
From the burning of the four great stars


  Within the firmament.

THE universe, deathless and old,
  Breathes, yet is void of breath:
As still as death that seems to move
  And yet is still as death.